


Breathe In

by keelywolfe



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 10:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hobbits cannot, in fact, swim. </p><p>Drowning, however. That's something anyone can do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe In

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, okay, I know in the movie that after the trolls comes Radagast and the orcs. But who wouldn't want to take a minute and wash up, especially Bilbo who spent the night acting like the pocket handkerchief he forgot. 
> 
> So let's pretend they took a moment to get clean before going in the Troll cave, shall we? Good, glad we agree on that! And on with the show...

* * *

It had been his father who'd installed the plumbing in Bag End. His grandda had thought it a ridiculous extravagance and refused to have it put it but Bungo Baggins had given it as a gift to his new wife, a practical indulgence if ever there was one and Bilbo had no memory in his life of a lack of hot running water or a water closet. 

Nothing in his life, therefore, had prepared him to be standing on the edge of a river in his underclothes, trying to find a place to look that did not include a wet, naked Dwarf. Trying and failing, for it seemed to him that they were everywhere, as though the Dwarves had multiplied upon hitting the water. If he turned left, Kili and Fili were there, shouting laughter as they jumped from the large rocks lining the riverbed and into the deeper water. Turn right and Dwalin stood, the water only up to his ankles and the rest of him horribly visible to Bilbo's skittering eye. The impressiveness of the length of the hair on his arse was only matched by the hair on….but no, Bilbo would not allow his mind to descend to that level of filth. 

No matter where he turned there was a Dwarf and more than that, there was a _naked_ Dwarf, their dangling bits prominently on display as they scrubbed away at their hair and beards, washing off the revolting stains left by the trolls. That was what Bilbo was supposed to be doing, although between the frigid water lapping at his toes and stark-naked Dwarves stabbing at his eyes, he was starting to think that perhaps he could go on with a fine layer of troll snot on his person.

"Get in the water."

Growled low from behind him and Bilbo cringed. It wasn't just the voice that gave that Dwarf away; his unwillingly wandering eyes had already informed him that Thorin was not amongst the company and now Bilbo knew why. Thorin was not in the water because he was behind Bilbo and likely as naked as the others. 

"I'm quite all right, really," Bilbo said, backing away from the water. He kept his eyes on his own feet, honestly believing they should be safe enough there. A reasonable mistake, for his own feet were not impressive. Until they were bracketed on either side by those of a Dwarf and Bilbo did not realize what that meant until he bumped into something hard. Hard and warm and furred and taller than he, and oh, Bless his poor heart, he was mostly naked and pressed up against Thorin who was equally so. 

Chance was that he would have yelped and scrambled away, surely to the amusement of the others, and Thorin would give Bilbo that look to which he had become so accustomed; a balance of impatience and disgust visible in narrowed eyes, evident in the tightness of his mouth. 

That was what would have likely happened, had not a hard hand closed over the nape of Bilbo's neck and he found himself thrust forward without even a chance to take a breath before cold water closed over his head. 

Cold, so terribly cold, and Bilbo flailed, frantically, his lungs already burning as he struggled against the freezing grip of the water, the pull of it dulling his limbs, his senses, and Bilbo could not find the surface, he could not, reaching out aimlessly with cold-numb fingers. A rush of river water filled his mouth, cold and biting as steel, and he choked, struggles weakening, panic dimming into blackness. 

The next he knew, washed-out daylight was blurring his vision and Bilbo could feel rocks beneath his cheek, under his belly and knees. Rough hands were on his back, pounding on him until Bilbo choked out a great gout of water, gagging on the stones again and again until he could finally drag air into his pained lungs, coughed it back out and in again. Over and over, until he was breathing in harsh, rattling gulps of air. 

He realized after a moment that he was staring up at the sky, circled with the faces of worried Dwarves peering down at him. Worried, naked Dwarves, every one of them dripping water on him as though Bilbo could get any wetter. 

"Get back, all of you!" loudly said, with enough authority that Bilbo tried to obey, climbing weakly to his knees only to be pushed back down, though gently, "Not you, fool."

"Sorry," Bilbo rasped out, coughing again. It seemed a bit easier, his lungs clearing. Bilbo scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, wiping away water and blinking up at the owner of that voice through spiky lashes. Thorin. Of course, Thorin, who was also dripping wet, his hair heavy and drenched, though for all that he didn't seem particularly clean, and why would he be wet if he hadn't been washing—oh. Yes, well, it only seemed fair that Thorin had pulled him from the water, considering it was his fault Bilbo had been in it to begin with. 

"You—" Bilbo tried and it set him off coughing again, a wet and rattling hack. 

Thorin shook his head, lips thin as he said, "You cannot swim."

And there it was, that thinly veiled disgust and there were times that Bilbo understood it, knew that he was hardly the imposing figure the others made. Even Ori, for all his sweet nature, was more of a threat than Bilbo. He knew he was irksome at times and troublesome at others but for Thorin to blame Bilbo for him nearly being drowned, as though he'd leapt into the water rather than being pushed! 

"No," Bilbo said curtly and his voice was a raw growl. "No, I cannot swim, something that I have in common with nearly every Hobbit in the Shire! Hobbits, you may like to know, generally do not and cannot swim, so I'll thank you not to toss me into any other rivers, lakes, streams, or moats that we come across!"

Thorin opened his mouth but Bilbo was not finished, pushing on relentlessly, "And while we're discussing it, I think it's a bit rich of you to make assumptions on whether or not anyone can swim seeing as you live under a mountain! Perhaps next time you can throw me from a tree and we can all discover that I also cannot fly!"

His voice gave out at the precise moment that Bilbo could not think of another thing to say and he coughed again, clearing his throat and finally he abandoned the last of his manners and spat to the side. His mouth tasted like brackish water and he spat again, wishing for a drink to clear it away. 

As if by magic, a small flask appeared before him and Bilbo blinked at it, bewildered. If only he'd known wishes were to be granted today, he would have made a list. He reached for it with fingers still cold-numb and Thorin let him take it, catching it up again when Bilbo nearly dropped it. 

"Here," Thorin said, with a hint of impatience. "Just a swallow."

It would have served him right if Bilbo gulped down the entire flask, though he quickly learned the warning had been sincerely meant. The taste of it burned down Bilbo's throat worse than the river water, like swallowing a live coal. It made him cough again, sputtering and gasping, but the moment it hit his stomach, warmth spread through him, pushing away the chilliness still overshadowing him. 

"Better?" Thorin asked and there was no disgust on his face now, only poorly disguised humor.

"I think that may have been worse," Bilbo coughed. "What was that?"

"Brandy."

"I have had brandy and that is not it. That is, perhaps, it's bastard cousin, the kind who comes knocking at one's door in the early hours, drunk and begging for a place to sleep."

To his surprise, Thorin chuckled, softly, "Certainly that is what happens to those who drink too much of it."

Defiantly, Bilbo took it back and drank another mouthful, just managing not to sputter it right back out. He offered the flask to Thorin with a raised brow and his mouth curled in a near smile as he took a drink of his own before tucking it back into the pocket of his coat…which Bilbo was only just realizing was wrapped around him. He was wet and still felt sticky from the trolls and he was wearing the King's coat. 

Honestly, Gandalf's sense of humor was positively bizarre if he called this an adventure. 

"Hm, right then," Bilbo harrumphed, scrambling to his feet. The coat fell off him to the ground and Bilbo snatched it back up, thrusting it towards Thorin, who took it with grace that Bilbo had a moment to resent. 

"Is he going to live, then?" Dwalin called loudly from the water, "I'd rather not be digging holes after dark if we've need for one."

"We most certainly do not need a hole!" Bilbo shouted indignantly at the same moment Thorin called back, "He'll live."

Bilbo trudged back towards the water, muttering about insensitive Dwarves and, honestly, a hole, and perhaps his knees were still a bit weak, a lingering near-drowned clumsiness made him trip and he cried out, holding out his hands to brace for a fall. 

One that never came as strong hands caught him up, steadying him. "Careful," Thorin said, his voice pitched low beneath the splashing of the others. "A burglar should be lighter on their feet."

"Try not to drown me again and I'll do better," Bilbo snapped. It was only later that he considered the way Thorin's hands lingered, briefly, at the small of his back, the light pressure of his fingertips as he drew them away. Later that he wondered at the faint quirk of his smile, the flicker of his eyes over Bilbo before he turned away, stepping into the water to wash. 

Bilbo kept to the shallows, splashing the chilly water over his face and arms, scrubbing off the lingering troll filth. The others weren't washing so much as playing as far as Bilbo could see; Fili and Kili still wallowing about, splashing water at Ori while Balin was sitting on the riverbank with Oin and Dori, the three of them still naked as jaybirds as they smoked their pipes. Gloin was still scrubbing his beard, muttering about trolls and their disgusting sacks and Dwalin….well, the less said about Dwalin the better. Bilbo shuddered and only hoped his dreams would stay from the sight of that this night. 

He did not mean to glance in Thorin's direction but his eyes, as they so often had as of late, drifting off without his permission. Hip deep in the water, Thorin's back was to Bilbo and he had his head tipped back, scrubbing his hands roughly through the length of his hair until it hung in thick, wet ropes across his shoulders. 

Even from the distance, Bilbo could see the white crisscross of scars over the smooth skin, a terrible one at his hip that vanished beneath the water and another at his side that looked to Bilbo's inexpert eye like the remnants of a nasty burn. So much pain laid across that skin, a testament to the life he'd led and—

A splash of water caught Bilbo full in the face and he sputtered, falling back and sitting down hard in the shallows. Kili was there in an instant, already burbling apologies as he pulled Bilbo back to his feet. 

"…so sorry, are you all right?" Kili asked, his hands sweeping over Bilbo as if searching for injury, and…hello, there, that pinch was quite unnecessary!

"Thank you, but I believe I'm clean enough!" Bilbo announced, firmly pushing Kili aside as he sloshed out of the water. Only to find with mixed gratitude and dismay that someone had taken it upon themselves to wash his clothes and left them to dry on the rocks alongside the others. 

"Come here, lad, and have a seat!" Balin called to him, echoed by Dori and Oin, and somewhat disgruntled, Bilbo did, snatching up his pipe and joining the three of them.

"You'll be safe enough here," Balin told him as he lit his pipe, nudging his ribs lightly with one elbow. "No fear of drowning and you can just enjoy the view."

"Enjoy the—" Bilbo sputtered. "I'm sure I don’t know what you mean!"

Balin gestured around them with his pipe, "It's a lovely riverside, don't you think?"

"The river," Bilbo sighed. "Yes, yes, the river is quite lovely." He ignored Balin's sly wink and just smoked his pipe. Taking in the view as it were, the swirling eddies trailing through the river water, the reeds lining the shallows bending and bobbing from the light summer winds. And if his eyes strayed from time to time, lingering over dark hair and broad shoulders, well. 

Perhaps there were perks to bathing in the out of doors, after all. 

 

-finis-

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by this lovely piece of art here: http://olgg.tumblr.com/image/40956930502
> 
> Please go see it, love it, love the artist!


End file.
